


papa bear

by ell (amywaited)



Series: the tumblr archive [13]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Prompt Fill, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell
Summary: --Haloah ! I would just LOVE Tony scolding Peter, please pretty please ? I let you choose everything but daddy Tony is angry af. THANK YOU.





	papa bear

**Author's Note:**

> find my [tumblr](https://spideysstark.tumblr.com)

Peter’s, fuck. Peter’s out of breath, he knows he is, but he doesn’t feel it. His entire body is buzzing with the adrenaline of ‘fight fight fight!’.

That’s why he doesn’t realise he’s stabbed till he collapses on the floor of the tower.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he can sort of make out FRIDAY calling for Tony, and then running footsteps, and then fuzzy sound of Tony muttering to himself.

*

He wakes up in the medical wing of the tower. There’s no needles or.. Things stuck in him. Tony knows him better than that. Peter can feel his flesh glue back together (which is definitely a weird feeling, but that’s what happens when you wake up before your healing factor has caught up). FRIDAY also knows him better than that, because she projects the time onto the ceiling instead of saying it aloud.

It’s about one in the afternoon. Peter remembers getting in at about three that morning, so Tony is probably going to be angry.

Yep. He comes storming into the med wing, with an extra large mug of coffee in his hand. Tony’s eyes are kind of dark, and a little bit watery. He looks exhausted.

“Dad-” Peter starts.

“No. Nope. You do not get to talk right now, okay?” Tony snaps, slamming the coffee mug on Peter’s bedside table so hard, coffee sloshes over the sides. From here, Peter can smell that there’s at least two shots worth of rum in it. He really sent Tony into overdrive this time.

“Okay,” Peter says. It’s better to let him get it out of his system when he’s this worried.

“So, I looked at the video playback,” Tony says, sounding far too calm. “What happened to calling for backup if there’s more than five hostiles?”

“It was late. I didn’t want to get anyone up. Besides, I could take them,” Peter says. It’s the unconscious reflex to defend himself.

“And you did. Well done for taking them all out. But it was three in the morning, Peter, and you had already been hurt-”

“It was a graze!” Peter protests.

“From a  _bullet_!” Tony shouts. “A bullet, Peter. And you know that there will always be someone on nightwatch, just in case.”

“It had healed by the time I got to those guys,” Peter mutters.

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” Tony tells him.

Peter sighs, diverting all his attention to the blankets.

“I just- Why did you not call for help? You know there’s always someone around. Hell, as much as it pains me to say, you could have called the NYPD,” Tony continues.

“They’re terrible at this sort of stuff though,” Peter says.

“It’s their job, Peter!” Tony yells. “They get paid to do this stuff! You get paid in bullets and stab wounds!”

“It’s not that-”

“It is that bad!” Tony shouts over him. “It is! I had to dig that knife out of you. And it was serrated, so it’s not an easy thing. And don’t you dare mention your healing powers, Peter, because while I’m so glad that you have them, it doesn’t affect this.

“I have had to stitch you up more times than I’m comfortable with, since you seem incapable of looking after yourself in the field! And if this continues, I’m going to ban you from patrol, or send a babysitter, or something!” Tony cuts off suddenly and lowers his voice. “Peter. You mean everything to me, and I don’t want to see you gone, okay? Don’t do this again.”

Tony closes his eyes, shakes his head, and then stalks off. Peter watches the steam curl off of his coffee mug and waits for Tony to come back and get it.

He doesn’t.

*

“Dad?” Peter asks, knocking on the door to the lab. It’s the evening now, he’d sat in medical watching the sun go down before deciding he’s healed enough.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Tony asks, slipping into the hallway.

“I’m fine. It’s healed.”

Tony raises a disbelieving eyebrow, so Peter lifts his t-shirt up to show him the pale pink scar on his side.

“Okay,” Tony says. “What’s up?”

“I’m just- I’m sorry,” Peter says. “Fo making you worry.”

Tony smiles softly at him. “It’s okay, kid. Come here.”

Peter lurches forward to wrap his arms around Tony.

“Sorry for yelling,” Tony says. Peter feels the words blow through his hair. “I love you, Pete.”

“Love you too, dad,” Peter says.


End file.
